


For Old Time's Sake

by Josselin



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-27
Updated: 2004-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-11 13:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josselin/pseuds/Josselin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Brian calmed down and stopped screaming about how his dick had disappeared, he turned to Justin with a disturbingly coy look, and said, peeking at Justin through his eyelashes, “Wanna be my first?” And Justin swallowed heavily, and nodded, because after all, he always wanted to fuck Brian, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Old Time's Sake

**Author's Note:**

> **Vague spoilers** through the first two episodes of season four or so but nothing specific. Brian is a slut and sleeps with everyone, but this is canon, of course. Not stylistically perfect, but it's really about the humor attempt here, guys. Feedback welcome, as always.
> 
> Oh man, I can't believe I wrote this. I really can't. But I just couldn't resist. It's also the fault of [](http://wrenlet.livejournal.com/profile)[**wrenlet**](http://wrenlet.livejournal.com/) and [](http://seperis.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://seperis.livejournal.com/)**seperis** for encouraging my insanity.

After Brian calmed down and stopped screaming about how his dick had disappeared, he turned to Justin with a disturbingly coy look, and said, peeking at Justin through his eyelashes, “Wanna be my first?” And Justin swallowed heavily, and nodded, because after all, he always wanted to fuck Brian, right?

Wrong. Brian hissed in pain as Justin entered him, whined that Justin pinched his nipples too hard, and later complained that he was sore and that he hadn’t come, declaring Justin “quite possibly, the worst fuck I’ve ever had.” This made Justin understandably irritated, and he told Brian to fuck off and go find some straight guy to have sex with. Brian frowned at this, crossed his arms over his chest—having some issues with his newly developed breasts—and seemed to realize for real the implications of this new life development. He spent two hours brainstorming and rejecting possible ways to return himself to his correct sex, but since neither he nor Justin knew how it had happened in the first place, that was a little difficult. Brian had merely woken up to take a piss, and Justin had woken up to high-pitched shouting from the bathroom. Female-Brian was shorter than male-Brian but still tall and slim, very muscular, with strong features, long eyelashes, and Brian’s weird hairstyle. All in all, female-Brian looked a hell of a lot like Melanie, which probably said something.

Speaking of the munchers, after failing to figure out a viable plan to get his dick back, Brian dialed Lindsay’s number and handed the phone to Justin. Lindsay promptly rushed over to the loft after hearing from Justin that Brian was having some issues and could she please bring a spare set of clothes?

Lindsay was sort of disturbingly gleeful about Brian’s new transformation, and spent the three days “helping Brian through this traumatic adjustment,” a process which involved a large quantity of sex toys and Brian’s new best friend—multiple orgasms.

The afternoon of the third day Melanie came over, glared at Brian furiously as though he had arranged this on purpose and insisted that Lindsay come home to see her son. It took a few minutes to pry Lindsay away from Brian and the bed and in the mean time Justin and Melanie began plotting ways to end this horrible catastrophe and turn Brian back into a man. “I’d always had fantasies about Brian losing his dick,” Melanie admitted.

“Okay, disturbing,” Justin said, covering his crotch protectively.

“But this is worse than I ever would have imagined,” she continued. “God, Lindz, are you coming?”

“Yeah, she is,” Brian answered helpfully. “For the fourth time.” Melanie grumbled furiously and went to pull her wife out of the bedroom.

The lesbian phase was pretty short-lived, though, because Brian decided that he missed dick. He caught Justin taking a nap and pulled Justin’s pants down and put Justin’s dick in his mouth, and when Justin woke up, Justin was groaning and confused. Because it was Brian’s tongue that was teasing him, it was Brian’s fingers that knew exactly how to touch his balls, and it was Brian’s quirk at the edge of his mouth, but there were curves, too, of the shoulder and the breast and hip, and that was just so wrong, that Justin was still trying to process it when he came in Brian’s mouth. Brian slid up his body to kiss him, and Brian’s breasts brushed his chest and his mouth was smaller than it used to be and it was all just too bizarre. Justin pushed Brian away, gently.

Brian was persistent, nuzzling Justin’s stomach. “Let’s fuck,” he said throatily, and his voice was familiar, the intonations were familiar, but the pitch was off.

“No,” Justin said.

Brian frowned, and when his eyebrows creased he was really very pretty.

“You’re a woman,” Justin explained. “And you’re…straight.” He stared at the ceiling as though looking for divine intervention. “God, that’s so wrong.”

“What’re you going to do?” Brian taunted, running a hand down Justin’s chest. “Beat me up?”

“I don’t have sex with women.” Justin said firmly. “I’m gay.”

Brian grinned evilly, an expression that now looked sexy and sort of endearing. “Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman yet.”

* * *

Brian decided he didn’t want to go into the office, not because he didn’t want his staff and friends to see that he’d turned into a woman, but because he didn’t have the appropriate designer clothing for this sex and occasion. So instead, he called up Cynthia and made her come over to the loft.

She was intrigued by this development, updated Brian on the company situation, and told him he needed to pluck his eyebrows. Then she gave Brian some lessons on applying make up and walking in high heels. Brian was sort of suspiciously good at walking in heels right off, which made Justin wonder about that drag gown he’d found in Brian’s storage closet, but he didn’t ask. After lunch (“You already eat like a woman,” Cynthia told Brian admiringly) they went shopping, and Brian came back with a huge new wardrobe and a new haircut. He explained to Justin that he would have bought more clothes, except he wasn’t sure exactly how long he was going to remain a woman.

“You certainly seem to be making the best of things,” Justin grumped, reading a book on the bed.

Brian raised one delicately arched brow. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

After donning one of his new outfits, Brian called Cynthia and told her he was ready—apparently, Justin gathered, they were going out clubbing together, because Brian was, as he put it, with a significant glare at Justin “desperately in need of a good fuck.”

Three nights and seven traumatized men later, Brian was still looking for a fuck and he’d lowered his standards from “good” to “decent.” Straight men were horrible tricks.

He got temporarily distracted from his quest for sexual fulfillment by the news, via Cynthia’s secret source, that Vance had a new mystery account, and it was huge. Worth millions upon millions. The best way to determine the name of this new account, they figured, was to sneak into Vance’s welcome party for the new client, which was being hosted at the ritziest hotel in town. Justin suggested that they dress up in burglary costumes and sneak in the window, but Cynthia just laughed, and instead pulled out two tight leather miniskirts and thigh-high boots.

Getting in to Vance’s party proved to be as easy as grabbing the doorman by the tie and dragging him into the nearest coat closet. Twenty-five minutes later the two women emerged, smoothing skirts and adjusting each other’s hair. “You are _horrible_ at faking it,” Cynthia scolded Brian while reapplying lipstick. “We’re just lucky the guy was staring at my breasts and didn’t give a damn _what_ you were doing.”

“No straight men give a damn what you’re doing,” Brian said, holding his eyes closed patiently while Cynthia smudged his eyeliner artfully. “No wonder women are so bitchy,” he continued. “It’s like permanent sexual frustration.”

“Oooh,” Cynthia drew out the syllable understandingly. “You have got to get laid.”

Brian raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“By somebody good,” Cynthia continued. “In fact,” she continued, getting a gleam in her eye and beginning to scan the ballroom, “I know just the man. Good thing you’re wearing red,” she gestured to Brian’s silk blouse. “It’s his favorite color.”

* * *

Maybe it was the magic of the red blouse or maybe it was just the sheer amount of sexual charisma Brian managed to project in a single heated glance, but either way, he managed to get Gardner Vance to leave his own party early and was soon seated in the back of a cab on his way to Vance’s house in one of the close suburbs. Vance seemed intoxicated with Brian’s mouth, watching fascinated as Brian swept his tongue over his lips slowly, but he refused to let Brian blow him in the car, pulling Brian back up with a squawk. Prude.

Vance refused to just get to it when they got to the house, too. He lead Brian by the hand up the driveway, swallowed heavily while unlocking his front door, and then offered to take Brian’s coat, encouraged him to make himself comfortable on the sofa, and asked “Brianna” if she’d like some wine.

Brian smiled slowly. “Where’s the bedroom?”

Vance became even more flustered. “I need,” he pointed down the hallway in a direction Brian assumed to be his kitchen. “A drink. Just a minute.”

When Vance reemerged holding two flutes of wine, he found Brian stretched out on the couch wearing only his boots, garters, and stockings, his blouse and skirt in silken puddles on the carpet. Vance swore fluently and set the glasses down on the end table without even using a coaster.

Some hours later, they ended up in Vance’s bed, Vance reclining back against a pile of pillows and stroking the curve of Brian’s back and shoulder while Brian had a cigarette.

“You remind me of someone,” Vance said idly.

“Your former business partner?” Brian suggested, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand and wrapping a hand around Vance’s dick once again. “That’s because I am.”

“What?” Vance said, half choking on a swallow of wine.

Brian rolled his eyes and began licking his way down Vance’s chest. It wasn’t as impressive as his own chest, Brian evaluated, but the guy obviously worked out.

“Brian?” Vance said questioningly, staring into Brian’s face.

“The one and only,” Brian responded, engrossed in what he was doing.

“God, what happened?” Vance asked. “Did you have a sex change operation?”

Brian was disgusted by the very thought. “Please,” he said distastefully.

After Brian finished blowing him, Vance had more questions. “What the fuck are you doing _here_?” he wanted to know.

“I needed a decent lay and Cynthia suggested you.”

You could just see the manly pride inflating Vance’s ego at that. “Really,” he said smugly.

Brian nodded, lighting another cigarette. “I rank you above gay men and all the other straight men, but slightly below lesbians.” Vance deflated somewhat at that. “Of course,” Brian continued, “You get bonus points because,” he paused to give Vance a sincere look, “You have a really nice dick. Mine was better,” he added, “but we can’t all be perfect.”

* * *

Once Brian was a woman, things really started to get weird pretty fast. For one thing, his former business partner kept stalking him with presents of flowers and jewelry, and though Brian was fine with the way Vance performed oral sex, that didn’t mean he wanted to go out and eat dinner with the guy or anything.

Other weird stuff happened, too. There was that one conversation with drunken Justin where Justin told Brian how romantic it would be if Brian had his baby. Lindsay kept popping into the loft with catalogues of battery-powered sex toys.

And then, Brian got PMS. Justin, faced with a Brian who was now eight times bitchier than normal Brian, packed up and moved back to Daphne’s. Brian was sort of baffled, “Doesn’t she get PMS too?”

“Yeah, but not until next week,” Justin said. “And _she_ doesn’t threaten to cut my dick off in retaliation.”

Brian decided that not even multiple orgasms were worth this kind of suffering, and declared that all women were idiots for not having hysterectomies at age sixteen and being done with it.

* * *

After a month of womanhood, Brian randomly turned back into a man, just as suddenly as he’d turned into a woman. The first thing he did was hunt down Justin and fuck him, hard and fast. Then he made Justin suck him off. After returning the favor, he went to Babylon and fucked several other guys, rejoicing in the return to what was quite obviously his natural state.

When he went to see Vance a few days later, sneaking into his office late at night, Vance seemed sort of disappointed. Brian smirked at him and promised, “One last fuck, for old time’s sake.”

Vance laughed weakly, and blustered, and raised his hands in protest while Brian merely stalked across the room and around the wooden desk, grinning. “I’m the best fuck you’ll ever have,” Brian said throatily, fingers working easily on the buttons of Vance’s shirt. “I guarantee it.”

THE END


End file.
